Word: chestnut
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Ever since Morgan Partner Edward T. Stotesbury died in 1938, Whitemarsh Hall, his 145-room country house, north of Philadelphia's swank suburban Chestnut Hill, had stood empty and unlived in. In the winter of 1942 it became a place of mystery. Passers-by reported strange doings. Around the vast, Versailles-inspired mansion a high steel fence went up. By day armed guards patrolled the herbaceous borders. By night great floodlights on the parapets sometimes flashed on to light up Whitemarsh Hall's massive, two-story limestone facade and Ionic columns...
Szell lives with his striking, chestnut-haired Czech wife in a Manhattan apartment so scrupulously kept that visitors are almost afraid to sit down in it. A devout gourmet, he frequently terrifies his wife by tying an apron around his muscular torso and assuming autocratic control of the kitchen. He resents all imputations of artistic temperament. Says George Szell: "There is nothing interesting about me. I have no hobbies. I am not melancholy. My accounts are all in perfect order. I am so damn normal...
...graces of the art of design were fittingly embodied last week when Miss Elena Davila (see cut) won Columbia University's twelfth annual medal for social architecture. The competition subject was a recreation-area shelter. Born in Puerto Rico, Miss Davila studied at Philadelphia's Chestnut Hill Academy, is an equestrian and stamp collector, a skillful photographer, an enthusiastic dancer in the Spanish manner. Her father, an alumnus of M.I.T., is Lieut. Commander Jorge V. Davila, U.S.N.R., now on duty in Puerto Rico...
Already some Red units had crossed the river. Already Cossacks watered their horses on the lower Dnieper. Farther north, weary but exultant Red soldiers watched the gold-domed churches of Kiev, its roofs peeking through the branches of chestnut trees...
...under German mortar fire, he picked a careful way behind stone walls up the limestone and pumice heights of the Sorrentine peninsula. From the ridge the patches of chestnut forest tumbled into the brown Campania plain. The General looked in the direction of the ashen ruins of Pompeii, the lava-scarred cone of Vesuvius. Beyond the volcano rose a huge shroud of smoke over the port of Naples. In that city of 900,000, rising in tourist times like a white amphitheater from the blue sea, the Germans were dynamiting and burning. It was clear proof that the Wehrmacht...